Schwarz Go to Therapy
by Gentle Vash
Summary: Schwarz face their greatest challenge so far: Dr. Jane Goodbody. Prologue.


  
Author's Notes: The following fic is dedicated to my nii-chan Pacco, Sephy-koi, Nagi_chan17 and the biggest Crawford fan of all time, Lily_crawford. I love you guys and I don't know where I'd be without you.  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Weiss Kreuz, Schwarz, Farfarello, Nagi, Crawford, Schuldig or Takatori Reiji. Project Weiss does, and Lord only knows who owns them. If I did own the boys, however, my life would be much more interesting, as Crawford would have pink hair and Schuldig fashion sense. In the same vein, I also do not own the American Psychiatric Association, the talking stick, or even a copy of the DSM-IV, revised or otherwise. I'm not even a psychology major! However, I do own the character of Dr. Jane Goodbody, and whether or not that is a good thing I don't know. Please do not sue me or ask me to go into therapy myself. I'm too poor to do either of these, and I doubt anyone would take my old, catankerous siamese cat as any form of payment. Ok, that settled, onto the fic!  
  
Prologue: I Love You, You Love Me...  
  
Takatori Reiji sighed and swallowed an asprin as his stern eyes studied the four battered and mangled bodyguards in front of him. "Who started it this time, Crawford?"  
The American pushed his cracked and bent glasses up his nose indignantly. "Well, Mister Takatori it all began when we broke into the Kodoke lab. Naoe and Schuldig were our look outs while Farfarello accompanied me to take care of any remaining security. However, Schuldig decided he'd go on a little smoke break and let Naoe take care of the fifty armed guards."  
"Oh, fuck you, Crawford! You were too busy humping Farfarello to let us know where they were."  
Crawford turned red. "For your information, I was trying to keep him from beating the shit out of me because somebody forgot to give him his prozac this morning -- Nagi!"  
"Well don't look at me I'm not his nanny. And besides the chore-wheel said it was Schuldig's turn."  
"That's just great, Nagi, pass the fucking yen like always. You know we'll never treat you like an adult until you stop acting like a constipated two year old!"  
"Oh, that's just great, Schuldig." Crawford retorted. "And speaking of passing the fucking yen, thank you for not filling the tank on the jeep after your "date" last night."  
"Fujimiya Aya is a decent, respectable woman!"  
"Heh. Said the giggolo! Had I not had a vision and stopped for gas this morning --"  
"Oh bullshit!" Nagi yelled. "My telekinesis was the only thing that got us out of the garage"  
"Yeah, that's right, Nagi, thank you for reminding us that you float shit." Schuldig hissed. "What else can you do besides play your fucking game boy during missions and get in the way of the gunfire?"  
"Don't blaim Nagi becuase your gun broke after you hit it with the weed whacker."  
"Yeah and who's fault was that, Mr. I-was-too-busy-having-a-vision-to-notice-it-was-there?"  
"And you say I'm a child? You can't even take responsibility for your own actions! You're as bad as Farfarello!"  
"Oh leave me out of it, ye mother feckers! I'm not part of yer quarrel."  
"Oh that's right you were to busy fucking Brad and hurting God to notice you'd tripped an alarm."  
"Nagi, watch your damn mouth! Who the fuck teaches you these words."  
"Oh, fuck you, Crawford!"  
"Fuck you, Nagi!"  
"Speak for yourself, psycho fucker."  
"Feck you Schuldig! I never touched yer feckin' boyfriend!"  
"Fuck you, Farfie! Go stick a knife up your ass."  
"Feck you, Schuldig! At least I'm not ramming my teeny wee into my palm every night."  
"You fucking piece of --"  
"FUCK ALL OF YOU!!!"  
The quarreling assassins turned around to find a red-faced and furious Takatori.  
"Mister Takatori --"  
"ENOUGH!!!" the fuming politician roared, jabbing a finger at his body guards. "ALL of you -- shut up! NOW!!"  
Crawford merely laughed. "With all due respect, fuck you, Mr. Takatori. We members of Estet don't have to listen to --"  
"OH YEAH?!?" Takatori's prize five iron slammed into Crawford's stomach with a bone-crunching thwack! Crawford's persian blue eyes crossed dangerously before he keeled over onto the carpet, holding his gut. "I ... saw that coming..." he whimpered.  
Schuldig laughed uproariously. "Yeah, right. Just like you saw those guards when you were humping Farfarello."  
"Now just a minute, ye sonuva--"  
Takatori snarrled and aimed the golf club for Schuldig's head. "One more word," he whispered. "One more word out of ANYONE and Mr. Golf club here goes into every oriface where the sun doesn't shine. Understood?"  
The three standing assassins merely blinked and stared at their employer. From the floor, Crawford whimpered his agreement. Scowling, Takatori slammed the golf club onto the table top and sighed, running a hand through his greying locks.  
"I've had just about all I can take of this, boys," he said after a moment's pause. "If its not one thing, its another. If send you on missions, you fight. If you accompany me on official business, you fight. If I stay out of public life to give you a rest, you fight. And it wouldn't be so bad if you were fighting Weiss, or Masafumi's bitch brigaide but since you're only fighting each other --" he sighed, replacing his glasses on his nose. "I just don't understand it. And I'm thinking its just going to get worse."  
"It wouldn't be so bad if Crawford would keep his mind on his work and not on Farfarello's package --"  
Takatori sighed and thwapped the German over the head with the handle of the club. "You see? You can't even take criticism without fighting!"  
"Well don't look at me sir, Schuldig's the one with the attitude problem."  
"Oh fuck you, Mr. I can get off the internet any time I want to!"  
"Kiss my ass, Schuldig!"  
"No thanks, I'm not into shota."  
A loud bang silenced the assassins again. A very red-faced Takatori was flipping quickly through a phone book.  
"I am going to give you boys one more chance," he murmured. "And if this doesn't work,. you're all fired."  
"F-- fired?" Crawford whimpered from the floor.  
The politician nodded, tearing a page from the book. "Which means you'll all go back to your crummy little lives before I found you. So unless you want to go back to boxing for a living" a finger at Crawford, "or begging" a finger at Nagi "or working the door at Gretta's House of Tits"  
Farfarello burst into peals of raspy laughter. "An -- an you act so feckin' high and mighty, you do!"   
"Well at least I wasn't hanging from the ceiling of an Irish mental facility!" Schuldig snapped, glaring daggers at the Irishman.  
"Y-- you can't fire us," Crawford wheezed. "We're members of Estet!"  
"FUCK ESTET!!!" Takatori slammed the phone onto the desk and yanked the reciever from the cradle. "You think when those old farts will want anything to do with you when hear how you've been behaving on a simple mission?"  
The room was silent as Takatori dialed.  
"Now pay attention, boys. I'm sending you to a very respectable therapist."  
Schuldig laughed, necessitating another jab from the five iron.  
"Ahem. She has helped my family through many trying times."  
"Heh. considering both of your sons are still insain and your younger brother's trying to kill you she must be a smashing sucess!"  
With another smash of the five iron, Schuldig joined his partner on the floor. After speaking on the phone for a moment, Takatori hung up and glared at his assassins.  
"You have an appointment for tomorrow afternoon at three-thirty. Do not be late or I will make good on my threats. You are dismissed."  
"No, absolutely not," Schuldig murmured, folding his arms across his chest. "I am not going to some third-rate touchy-feely "just admit you are your own best friend" therapist! And don't you dare aim that five-iron at me again!! Your little golf club can't possibly intimidate a man with mind control powers and ligthning-fast reflexes."  
  
  
  



End file.
